The Sleeper Agent
by Union Op 0282
Summary: This is the story of what Agent Eva did between the conclusion of Operation Snake Eater and her mysterious disappearance in Hanoi in '68. This isn't your average fanfic, but if you give it a chance I'm sure you'll be pleased.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: 1) Metal Gear Solid and all related characters are the copyrighted property of Konami Inc and Hideo Kojima.

2) I'd just like to say before hand that I took some liberties with characters and I hope readers will keep an open mind as to the plot of my story. It's a little rough at times and contains sexual references, course language, and some violence. That being said, Enjoy.

The Sleeper Agent

by Union Operative 0282

Part 1 

Oct. 9, 1964 - 35 days after the conclusion of Operation Snake Eater

Saigon, South Vietnam

The Murray Residence

Laura Murray laid in bed staring restlessly up at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan. It annoyed her watching the slow rotations as they did nothing to alleviate the stifling heat, but move the wet, muggy air down onto her. Drops of perspiration accumulated over her entire body. She could do little to help the cooling process. She wore a loose fitting tank top and thin linen pajama pants, and lay onto of the sheets. She dared not shed anymore clothing as she was checked on every fifteen minutes by a sentry.

Laura Murray happened to be the daughter and only child of Ambassador Matthew Murray, former senator from Maryland and current United States envoy to the South Vietnamese government. That being said the mansion in which she lived had a company of US Marines posted outside on the grounds and ten Secret Service agents patrolling the inside of the mansion.

Attacks had been coming further and further inside the South Vietnamese borders and security was becoming stifling.

The true reason for Laura's restlessness was not the heat, which she had weathered for three years already, nor the loss of privacy, so much, but the fight she had had with her father at dinner. Like many American kids, Laura was adamantly opposed to US involvement in the current conflict. She was fifteen, almost sixteen, and her political opinion was blossoming with her womanhood. The assassination of President Diem and the US's allowance of it, to a man pledged as an ally, was abhorrent to her.

There was no telling her father this. Either he swatted her opinions aside like the were a troublesome fly, or he vehemently chastised her for holding socialist ideals, casting a poor image on him, and/or exercising stupidity and naivete. She got no assistance from her mother, a woman as politically conservative as her father, and just as vocal. The only confidante she had was Phuong Ming, the old Vietnamese housekeeper. Few servants and household staff were Vietnamese, but Phuong was so old and docile, and willing to work for insufficient pay that she was allowed in and treated civilly. Laura looked on her as a grand-motherly figure and talked with her at length when not doing school work or attending government functions. Phuong Ming spoke passable English, but had started almost immediately to teach Laura Vietnamese to aid in their conversation. Laura was a quick student and spoke as good of Vietnamese as Phuong spoke of English. Soon though, she hoped to be fluent enough to talk to anyone in Vietnam at leisure.

What Laura really wished for was for her father to be replaced and for him to resume his role as Maryland senator. In this capacity she could tell herself that her father was being misled and was ignorant not evil. However, while they remained in Saigon the fruits of American imperialism lay bare for her, her father, her mother, and everyone else in country to see. Her father's hands were stained with all these offenses. The North Vietnamese were guerillas, poor villagers with ideals, the South Vietnamese were draftees thrown into the US military ranks, and told why they were fighting. All Laura could do was watch helplessly as history was written in blood and realpolitik.

As she lay there deep in though, she thought she heard a noise, but just as suddenly the sound stopped. Laura kept her ears peeled to any further sound. A moment later it happened again, but closer to her bedroom door. They were frantic footsteps. From the sound of them she knew them to be made by the shoes of the secret service agents. They again fell silent, but this time were punctuated by a large plunking sound.

Laura was a little frightened by this, but she got up anyway and tiptoed as quietly as she could to the door and opened it slowly and, she hoped, quietly. Sure enough, as she poked her head around the corner of the door frame she saw a man in a suit crumpled up on the floor, his ear piece fallen out of its place and his gun knocked out of his hand, probably by the fall. Laura didn't know what to make of this. He hadn't been shot, because only his fall was heard, and he hadn't been stabbed as there was no blood visible. He was a big man so he couldn't have been dispatched that quickly and that quietly.

Laura stood transfixed in the doorway until she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her shoulder that felt odd like jamming your funny bone. She looked down and saw a small pill shaped thing sticking out of her shoulder. As she looked up she saw a dark figure emerge from the darkness with a pistol in hand and green lights where their eyes should have been. While normally Laura would be screaming at this point, and although that's what she wanted to do, she found herself unable. The muscles of her vocal chords along with several others were nearly paralyzed. She tried taking a step backward but her knee and ankle joints were like rusty hinges. The best she could do was fall backward on her butt and weakly scoot backwards into her bedroom with barely mobile arms.

The figure walked leisurely and quite silently into the room, almost with a feline grace. As the person walked in and the moonlight from the barred windows illuminated things, the figure reached a black gloved hand up to it's peculiar eyes and lifted up what now could be seen as night vision goggles. Laura looked on helplessly as the figure entered. The intruder looked at Laura for a split second, before raising the pistol and firing a shot from the suppressed barrel into Laura's other shoulder. Another pill shaped dart hit Laura and she began to get a little light headed and her vision blurred. The figure quickly descended upon her, pulling the darts from her body and placing them in a pouch at their waist, shoving a wad of cloth (a pair of Laura's dirty underwear) into her mouth and taping it in place with regular duct tape, then tying her hands behind her back and her feet together. Finally a coarse cotton sack was placed over Laura's head and secured lightly with drawstrings. Despite the shock and the darts shot at her, the intruder was very ginger with their actions. This did nothing, however, to calm the turbulent frantics of her mind.

The last thing Laura heard before she blacked out was the figure next to her speak (into a radio, Laura realized after the staticy response) in an Asiatic language Laura was too drugged to even try to recognize. Seconds later the sound of clanking metal caught her ear and she was lifted up and handed to another person.

After that, darkness . . . .

Part 2 

Time: unknown

Location: unknown

Laura awoke what felt like an instant later to the rank stench of smelling salts held under her nose by the masked figure. Her head felt as though it had been pressed overnight between to boulders, but her senses were keen as ever. She was alarmed to find herself tied to a metal stool in the center of the dank concrete room, illuminated by a single light, still gagged with her own underpants. From under the heavy metal door fresh air wafted in and Laura could smell the urbane, stagnant aromas of Cholon district. At least she knew she wasn't too far from home, spirited away to China, Burma, or Korea.

As her eyes roved around, taking in what they could of the current situation, they inevitably fell on the kidnapper. In all the darkness and confusion, Laura hadn't had a chance to get a proper look at her abductor. Looking at them in the light, she came to a remarkable realization: her captor was a woman. Laura was almost sure of it. The soldier's uniform was made up of a padded nylon fiber bodice, fit tightly with straps across the chest, sheathing two mounds that could only be a woman's breasts, and running down between the legs smoothly without the bulge common of a man. The appendages were covered in a glossy space aged material (almost like a space blanket) laced tightly together over a reddish polyester undergarment. On the right shoulder was an insignia that read in silver letters: CCCP. From the way it fit this woman, she was very fit, but feminine in build.

Her face was covered in a tight fitting balaclava that covered her entire head except for a large opening revealing both eyes and the bridge of her nose. Even had her uniform not revealed her sex, her eyes were a dead giveaway. They were a soft, subtle blue and done up elaborately with black eyeliner and mascara.

Behind the woman stood two Vietnamese soldiers, unmasked, wearing worn out guerilla fatigues, red berets, and carrying Russian issue AK-47s. Both stood guard on either side of the door, rigid like the Beef-Eaters of Britain. It was a grossly gratuitous use of force, Laura thought, being that the woman in front of her was no doubt more than equipped to handle her.

After giving Laura a few moment to regain her senses, the woman ripped off the tape from Laura's mouth and plunged her thumb and index finger, sheathed in vulcanized rubber, into her mouth and removed the panties.

"Please, Please don't kill me!" Laura began to cry fervently. The woman reached down to her thigh and brought up a suppressed M1911A1 .45 pistol.

"Shut up!" the woman commanded in a light, melodic voice, that strangely enough was American in accent. "This gun holds live ammunition, not tranq darts, and it's suppressed so no one outside will hear if I shoot you. So sit back, be quiet, answer promptly when spoken to, and maybe you will live." Laura gulped at the prospect of not surviving, turned a few shades paler, and quieted down real fast.

"Laura Agnes Murray, daughter of Ambassador Matthew and Candice Murray, age 15, height 5' 3", weight 108 lbs., blood type A negative, eye color green, hair color black, favorite color blue . . ." Laura sat silently listening to this woman relate to her accurately all of the statistics of her life, and was unnerved even more by it, "Do you know why you are here?"

"No, ma'am." Laura answered promptly, not wanting to enrage the woman.

"It has reached our ears that you, the American Ambassador's daughter, are critical of America's role in Indochina and sympathize with the Vietminh."

This wasn't exactly true. Yes, Laura was critical of the US's intervention in Vietnam, but she wasn't sure whether she approved of the politics and methods of the Vietminh per say. However, she nodded to the statement all the same.

"Because of this we arranged this interview to offer you a position in the East Asian Socialist intelligence Network. What would you say to this?"

"I don't know," Laura said timidly, "What exactly would I have to do, just pass you information on my father?"

The woman laughed melodically under her balaclava, then turned to the two Vietnamese and gave them an order in their language, with a perfect accent. The two stood at rigid attention, saluted, and exited the room.

"Our plans for you are more involved than using you as a mere informant. Our proposition is to offer you training as a covert operative in one of the most powerful organizations in the world." Laura could barely believe what she was hearing.

"You mean a spy like James Bond?" she asked, her fear replaced by curiosity.

"Not quite." the woman laughed again. "James Bond is an Imperialist and a farce. You will however, should you accept, be trained for sneaking missions, infiltration, the use of special weapons and tactics, and the art of seduction. But only if you accept."

"If I say no? Will you kill me?" Laura asked, her fear renewed.

"Not exactly. Should you turn us down I'll chloroform you and return you to your bed and that will be that. How you choose to proceed at that point will determine whether you live or die. Before I woke you, a field surgeon placed a transceiver chip beneath your collar bone. It is close enough to your vocal cords to transmit everything you say to a listening station in Phat Diem. If you tell anyone anything related to the events of this evening the transceiver will explode releasing a lethal dose of cyanide into your bloodstream. The same goes for if you accept. What will it be, Laura Murray?"

While the woman was explaining the proposition, Laura was already deep in thought considering both sides. She was completely free to do either. However, all she could think of was wearing elegant ball gowns, seducing foreign military officers, and sneaking microfilm across heavily patrolled borders. There was no way she could pass this opportunity up.

"I will do it." Laura said confidently.

"Excellent." The woman replied, obviously very pleased. "Then we will contact you in a few days via our contact in the Murray compound. Until then keep quiet about his meeting or regrettably we will terminate you."

While she said this the woman rustled around in a cabinet, giving Laura a good view of her well toned, shapely, nylon sheathed ass. When she turned around the woman had a black regulator strapped to her face over the balaclava. In her right hand she had a wad of cloth and in her left she had a bottle with a worn, yellow stained label covered in Cyrillic. Laura wanted to ask what was going on and who their contact in hr house was, but before she could the woman had poured some liquid from the bottle onto the cloth, steaming and fuming as it hit, and replaced the bottle on a table by Laura's chair. The cloth was pressed securely over Laura's mouth and nose, the fumes stinging her head, nostrils, and lungs. Slowly she lost consciousness for the second time that day and fell once again into oblivion.

**To be continued . . . . . . **


	2. Chapter 2

Part 3 

Oct. 12, 1964

Saigon, South Vietnam

The Murray Residence

Two days had passed since Laura's abduction and ironically those two days had been the dullest she had known in some time. She had steered clear of her father and mother, tuned out their conversations, thinking back to what the woman had offered her. That was all she thought about fo a little over forty eight hours. As the clock ticked away she tore the situation apart, thinking now about the full range of what she had gotten herself into. Now the contact dangled

like the Sword of Damocles.

On the third day, after arriving home from the American School, it finally happened. Laura went up to her room to start on her homework. When she got there Phuong Ming was waiting.

"Missa Lala come me . . ." the old woman said in pigeon, gesturing with an arthritic hand. Laura followed as the woman led her down several floors to the wine cellar, an air conditioned room in the southeast corner of the house designed to be air tight to protect the Ambassador's expensive wines from the heat and humidity of Indochina. Laura opened the heavy doors for the aged housekeeper, but Phuong waited at the entrance and gestured for Laura to go first. Laura found this strange, but didn't make any connections.

"What are you up to Phuong?" Laura laughed, playing along and walked into the wine cellar. As she walked in Phuong followed and closed the door behind her. The room was plunged into darkness, prompting Laura to let out a gasp of shock. Then suddenly the lights above turned on and the masked woman emerged from behind the racks, attired as she had been the night she had kidnaped Laura.

"Hello again, Laura." the woman said cordially.

"Hey . . ." Laura said, not knowing what else to say.

The woman then looked to Phuong and said something in Vietnamese that Laura could just make out with her limited grasp of the language to be permission to leave. The old woman saluted and exited the cellar. Laura followed Phuong Ming's exit with incredulousity apparent in her expression.

"Phuong Ming is your contact!" Laura gasped.

"Yes, she is," the woman replied matter-of-factly, "Phuong Ming, which isn't her real name, is a venerated patriot of Indochina. She was a contemporary of Ho Chi Minh and before that a staunch anti-french guerilla. For her dedication and long service she was rewarded with the important but less physically taxing assignment of watching the American Ambassador's house."

Laura's heart sank. Her only confidante had turned out to be a facade adopted by a communist agent to gain her trust. She felt utterly alone. The woman seemed to sense this and patted her on the shoulder in consolation.

"Don't feel bad about it. Being used is a human condition. We are all used by everyone around us in one way or another. Think nothing of it. Very soon you will be a user."

This made Laura feel a small degree better.

"So are you here to give me an assignment or briefing or something?"

"You could say that. I am here to inform you of events that are to come and give information prudent to your new role."

Here the woman handed Laura a manilla envelope, which she immediately opened, expecting to see black and white motion photos of potential targets and blueprints of government buildings that she would have to infiltrate. What she saw instead was a top sheet that was a loose leaf piece of notepaper with her writing on it.

"What is it?" Laura asked.

"That is a rough essay our intelligence bureau fabricated in your hand full of subversive themes and anti-American ideas. They had quite a bit of fun writing in the style of a pampered fifteen year old American girl. An exact duplicate was handed to the principal of your school. Needless to say, it will be grounds for expulsion. However, being that you are the Ambassador's

daughter, your expulsion will be kept very quiet and you will be sent by your father to this facility (she flipped the page of Laura's packet to a picture of a very modern looking school) in Tunghwa on the Chinese border. It is a former US-Soviet-Chinese 'spy academy' that I myself attended before the second World War. The Chinese now control it with the cooperation of the Soviets. You will be educated there for three years and taught all the specifics of spycraft. Do you have any questions?"

"Just one right now," Laura said,"I wasn't _just_ chosen for my politics, was I?

"No. Not entirely. You were chosen because your father is who he is. You will be ideally placed and almost undetectable as a spy. Your father would implicate everyone on his staff before suspecting you. Does that bother you?"

"No. It's just as you said, we are all used. But I am obviously a rare and valuable commodity, so you need me more than I need you."

"Well put Laura. Now that things are set there can be no harm in revealing this." The woman reached a gloved hand to the top of her balaclava and yanked it off. A cascade of golden blonde hair came down to her shoulders and the most beautiful face met her eyes. The woman's nose, mouth, cheek bones, and especially her eyes looked like they had been crafted by an artisan.

"You are so beautiful." The words escaped Laura's awe struck lips without her willing them to.

"Thank you. Part of the regimen at the charm schools are cosmetic alteration. You will receive some as well. Beauty is a woman's greatest weapon."

"Who exactly am I going to be working for?" Laura asked.

"You will be working for a group known as the 'Philosophers'. The Chinese Philosophers are in control of everything that happens within their sphere of influence and enlarging that sphere is key. I report to General HQ Second Department of the People's Liberation Army in China, bu my loyalty lies with the Philosophers."

"You said 'the Chinese Philosophers'. Are there other Philosophers?"

"Yes. The Philosophers were a group of power elite from China, Russia, and America that formed an alliance at the start of the 20th century. With their money and resources they won the two world wars against Germany and her allies and secured total control and prosperity in their host nations. At the end of World War II the Philosophers split and turned against each other as they became too powerful to coexist. The Soviet Philosophers are all but extinct. My former lover, the last great of the Russian Philosophers, a GRU colonel named Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin, fell by my hand a month and a half ago. Now only China and America are left, and we fear the American Philosophers will become dominant due to an unforseen event. So you will help us stop this from happening."

"I see," Laura said thoughtfully, "What will I do at this training facility. I mean what kinds of activities will I take part in?"

"As I said before you will be trained in sneaking missions and combat situations in tri-weekly war games and in the art of seduction on men and women. You will study different cultures and improvisational acting."

"May I ask one more question, ma'am?"

"Of course."

"What is your name. I mean, what should I call you?"

"I am code named EVA." the woman said, "and I will code name you DELILAH."

DELILAH. Laura liked the sound of that. The Murray's had attended Episcopalian church services for years to put an air of piousness in the minds of voters when they thought of Senator Murray, and Laura knew the story of Delilah. Coupled with the knowledge that she was close to becoming a secret agent she smiled deviously.

"If you have no further questions you are dismissed, DELILAH." EVA said saluting. Laura stood as straight as she could and saluted rigidly, trying to emulate the Marines she saw stationed outside her home. She then exited the cellar and returned to her room and started her homework.

An hour and a half after her contact with Agent EVA, Phuong Ming returned, entering the room and bowed.

"Missa Lala, yah fatta wish to see you don stair in library." She said, still not breaking the pretense of the humble housekeeper. Laura tried not to let it bother her, but she still flet a pang of anger at the maid's duplicity. She however got up and walked downstairs with an air of carefree youth and innocence.

When she entered, her father was seated at his desk as he usually was at that time of day. He however was quite irrate as he looked up at his daughter.

"Sit your damn ass down," he snarled. Obediently Laura took a seat in a little red leather chair in front of the desk. As she did her father pushed a piece of paper toward her.

"Have you ever seen this before?" He asked ominously. Laura got up and grabbed the paper. As she expected, it was the paper EVA had warned her that had been turned in to the principal's office.

"I would be lying if I said no," Laura retorted truthfully.

"Don't get fresh with me you spoiled little bitch! Do you have any goddam clue how this could reflect on me if any of my colleagues caught wind of this!"

"No, sir. Sorry, sir." Laura said meekly looking at the floor.

"What were you thinking writing something like that in an American Embassy school?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you." She said again truthfully.

"Well you've been expelled, and thank God I was able to bribe the principal into keeping it quiet. You've really fucked up this time Laura. More than you usually do. Luckily for me, I was able to find a good school in Hong Kong to send you to that will look good to Washington and be far enough away to shield me from your total goddam stupidity."

"Thank you, father." Laura said not really knowing what else to say.

Ambassador Murray wasted no time. Laura was packed ready for departure to Hong Kong and, unknown to her father, from there to Tunghwa, the next evening. Laura's mother, ever the politician herself, was tearful and stricken with grief (real or manufactured) at the exodus, but never once consoled her or gave her any formed of solidarity for her 'crime'. Laura chose to think that she meant to, though in her heart she knew this wasn't the case. Either way, Laura was about to take a giant step into a new life.

Part 4 

Oct. 16, 1964

Tunghwa, China

'The International Academy of Philosophy'

When Laura arrived at the Airport in Hong Kong she was almost immediately loaded into a jeep and shuttled to a helipad where her and her belongings were loaded into a small glass orb shaped helicopter and flown across the border into China. A few miles inland they landed in a field where a larger heavily armed Soviet-made attack chopper was waiting. As she got on this time she was blindfolded by several Chinese regulars and flown for what seemed like hours.

Then Laura was unblindfolded and led out the side door onto another helipad. Waiting for her outside on the tarmac was agent EVA. She was dressed in tight fitting tan riding pants, and equally tight officer's jacket with the rankings of a major, knee high black boots, and an officer's cap over her hair, which was up in a bun. As Laura exited EVA saluted. Laura returned the salute, as she was now technically a soldier in a very cold war.

"Greetings, Agent DELILAH and welcome to the International Academy of Philosophy. If you will follow me, I will show you the facility."

EVA showed Laura the different classrooms which ranged from chemistry labs, to firing ranges with children as young as eight firing, assembling, and disassembling automatic weapons (mainly Chinese AK's, American XM16E1's, and the more compact Carbine 15 variety), lush living rooms with comfy looking armchairs and love seats, and several large lecture a halls. When they came to the mess hall it was about noon the whole of the student body was sat down to eat. The diversity of the crowd shocked Laura. There were a great many Asians, almost half the population, but besides there were a great many Africans, a few Indians, and quite few Caucasian students, some as Aryan looking as a Nazi propaganda poster.

"We have agents posted in every government on the planet. Keeping our foot in world politics is the key to supremacy." EVA said shepherding Laura on.

They traveled down several corridors until they came to a room consisting of a very comfortable bed, audiovisual equipment, light arrays, and a table of bottles with different colored liquids in them.

"What is this?" Laura asked, a little unnerved.

"This will be your one and only classroom for the next four months. You see, your education will be different from that of your peers here. Training began for them at infancy. You, however, are fourteen years behind them, so we will catch you up using subliminal education with a descent into you unconscious mind, part light induced, part drug. In four months you will learn fourteen years worth of advanced math, chemistry, physics, world history, politics, combat education, and be fluent in English, German, French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, Mandarin Chinese, Cantonese, Vietnamese, and Arabic."

"Will it hurt?" Laura asked.

"Such a question is unfit for a soldier." EVA reprimanded harshly, "but no, you will wake up four months after the procedure begins with no memory of what occurred during that time."

This was still unnerving, but Laura was more fascinated by what EVA said she would learn. With all those languages she could go anywhere in the world and do whatever she wanted. Visions of sitting in a moonlit arcade in Paris by the Seine, speaking passionately in perfect French to a cute Parisian gigolo, or masquerading as a concubine in a rich oil sheik's harem floated into her mind.

While she thought about this EVA led her to another room. It was virginal white and its only feature was a luxuriant bed with satin sheets and a down comforter.

"Is this my room?" Laura asked hopefully.

"No, it is but another classroom. I will give you one lesson before your subliminal education commences. For your unconscious to recognize and accept the material presented it, you must have an instinct or prior experience to base it on. Your mind already knows the rudiments of language from its struggle to learn English in your infancy. You are attracted to boys instinctively so your mind will accept lessons on heterosexual seduction. To be a balanced agent we are going to teach you to be bisexual. I will instruct you briefly so the neurologists can do the rest. Please undress."

Laura nervously began unbuttoning her shirt. She wasn't just unnerved by the fact that she had never been with a woman before, but because she ha never been with anyone before. She was still a virgin. As she undid her bra and slipped off her panties she stood naked with her hands clasped in front of her. She undressed as quickly as possible.

EVA began to undress but much more slowly. First she unzipped her boots and slid each off, then she unbuttoned her jacket, loosened her scarlet tie, unbuttoned her collar shirt revealing a lacy black bra supporting two luscious breasts, then unzipped her pants down the back, and pulled them off revealing high cut lacy black panties. Here she stopped to pick up her uniform and hang up each component on a coat rack on the wall behind her. When she turned around Laura saw that her black panties lacked a back, but had a thin string that tucked neatly between EVA's ass cheeks. Laura's jaw dropped.

"May I ask you a question, Miss EVA?"

"Of course," EVA said, hanging up her coat.

"What kind of underwear is that you have one?"

"These?" laughed EVA, "They are called 'thongs'. They are popular in Brazil and with American exotic dancers. Do you like them?"

"I don't know." Laura said embarrassed.

"Of course," EVA laughed, "You've never been with a woman before, have you?"

EVA walked slowly up to Laura, strutting her stuff, arousing in her a slight pang of lust. When she was right in front of Laura, EVA grabbed her arms and placed them on her hips, sliding them down to her naked ass and then around the front of her thong and her bulging mons. Laura could feel the heat radiating from EVA's love mound. Then EVA moved Laura's hand down into her thong, placing her trembling fingers on the shaved mons itself. EVA gasped with pleasure as Laura's fingers split the crevice.

EVA soon removed Laura's hand and picked her up laying her on the bed. She removed her bra and slid off her panties, both actions making her large breast jiggle. She then lowered herself onto Laura putting her lips to hers and kissing her passionately. EVA's hand then went to Laura's stomach and wandered downward until it found the cleft between Laura's legs. Laura gasped as EVA's hand expertly fingered her and elicited pleasure. Eva's own was positioned over Laura's leg, rubbing against her thigh to relieve herself.

Though she wasn't used to or inclined to what she was doing, Laura kept herself open to EVA's advances and after they had finished she laid her head on EVA's breast, listening to her heart beat as EVA stroked her hair.

After a few moments together EVA got up, crossed the room, and dressed again neatly in her uniform. Laura, taking a hint from EVA, began to pick up her own garments and put them on. When they had both gotten dressed and EVA had smoothed out the creases in her jacket and adjusted her ensemble to pristine perfection, she turned to Laura and smiled at her in a way that could either be seductive or sinister or both.

"Did you enjoy that, DELILAH?" EVA asked.

"Yes . . . of course. I . . I mean you . . . It was wonderful." Laura lied so terribly she couldn't believe it. EVA just laughed.

"Follow me then. It's time for the rest of your education."

EVA led Laura to the laboratory with the bed. This time around there were five white coated staff present, prepping the equipment. They spoke in blistering Chinese making the situation even more ominous. One of them began speaking to EVA who replied in as quick Chinese. When concluded EVA grabbed a vacuum sealed package that said "CALORIE MATE" and tossed it to Laura.

"Eat this." EVA said, "It'll be the last solid food you'll eat for four months."

Laura unwrapped it and ate the wafer inside in three large bites. It had a sweet, buttery taste and almost immediately took the edge off her hunger."

Then she was lead to the bed and strapped down. Electrodes were place all over her body and a mouth guard was placed in her mouth. Two IV's were placed in her arms and then Laura slept.

**To be continued . . . . . . **


	3. Chapter 3

Part 5 

Feb. 23, 1965

Tunghwa, China

'The International Academy of Philosophy'

Laura woke up to the sound of torrential rain drumming on the window pane next to her bed. It took a few moments for her to realize where she was and what was happening. The rain outside would be the monsoon rains. Four months really had passed. As her brainwave patterns changed a monitor began to beep and a Chinese doctor entered the room, made notations on her charts, then turned to her to examine her.

"Ni hoa mah. How are you feeling?" He asked with a bow.

"Alright I suppose." Laura replied, releasing a large yawn. Then another realization hit her. The doctor hadn't asked his question in English, nor had she answered in English.

"Holy cow! I just spoke Chinese!" Laura yelled excitedly.

The doctor however wasn't listening, but rather was talking to a young nurse telling her to alert Agent EVA that DELILAH had awakened. The nurse bowed and exited the room.

"Does my Chinese sound alright?" Laura asked enthusiastically. The doctor laughed.

"Perfect."

"What kind of Chinese am I speaking right now?"

"You are speaking very proper Mandarin."

The nurse reentered and told the doctor that Laura was to be cleaned up and brought to EVA in Exposition Hall 2F64. The doctor bowed and exited the room. The nurse, Nurse Xhiu Laura read on her name tag, wheeled a basin of water over on a cart, removed Laura's paper gown, and set about giving her a sponge bath, and washing her long mangled black hair. Then toweled her off and furnished her with loose fitting cotton garments. Laura dressed quickly and followed the nurse to a room in the second floor of the adjacent building. Waiting in a small antechamber was, as always, EVA again in her major's uniform.

"Guten tag, DELILAH. How do you feel?"

"I feel fine. A little different, I suppose. Drowsy though." Laura said confidently and matter-of-factly.

"I am glad to hear it. You certainly seem to have matured these past four months. Your German is perfect, I must say."

"Danke schön. Ich weiß da und hab vielen frühlen."

"Ja," laughed EVA, "Now, the reason I called you here is that a appraisal committee from the General Staff Dept of the Chinese People's Liberation Army would like to examine how your education has taken and what you can do after a four month treatment. Nervous?"

Laura thought for a moment and shrugged.

"Not really." EVA smiled at Laura's response.

"Excellent." She said, "I have some gifts for you."

EVA pulled out a garment bag, laid it on the table, and opened it. Inside was a sneaking suit, identical to the one EVA had worn the night she had kidnapped Laura. Also was a pair of vulcanized rubber soled boots, a soft, elastic nylon fiber balaclava, rubber gripped gloves, a bright white bra, and matching thong.

"Put these on."

Laura was beginning to realize how much she had changed already. Where four months ago, or what felt like a few hours to her, she had felt embarrassed stripping in front of EVA, she now found herself casually slipping off her pajamas and into the lingerie. Her new personality did nothing, however, to alleviate the novelty of the thong, nor, she found, of her augmented breasts. Later, she would have to examine herself more thoroughly. Then she slipped into her suit, and laced up the seams, noticing that with few exceptions it fit her like a glove.

"This is a very special present. It wasn't easy procuring one from the Soviets. Their design is far superior to ours, so our giving it to you can only show how important you are to us."

"It's very tight in the midriff and chest." Laura complained.

"You'll have to cope. The suit is designed to apply varying pressure to various vital organs to optimize their functioning."

"Alright," Laura sighed, "Let's proceed."

EVA produced an M1911A1 pistol and a suppressor and handed them to Laura. Laura took them, screwed in the suppressor tightly, and ejected the clip checking the side ballistics port. Seeing that it was full she replaced it with a sharp thrust of the butt of her right rubber insulated palm, pulled the action back, checking the chamber, and watching a round being injected into the chamber, then holstering it at her thigh.

"Follow me." EVA said, leading her into the next room.

Inside she found five men seated at a table, two in civilian cloths, the other three in military officers uniforms, in a small room illuminated by a dim red light and in front of a massive two way mirror. Behind the glass in a small isolated chamber knelt a rag clad peasant woman and child.

Laura and EVA both stood at attention and saluted the tribunal. Then when a general on the left periphery of the table nodded, EVA briefed Laura.

"Your task is to eliminate the occupants of that room with whatever method you choose. You've never killed before, but you should know what various methods are like from your subliminal education. This test will show us how effectively your conditioning was."

"Who are they?" Laura asked almost in monotone.

"Does it really matter?" One of the civilian observers asked. Laura shrugged.

"Not really. I am just curious as to who I am killing." Again Laura sounded very callous, considering the topic at hand.

"And if we said a simple village woman and her child pick randomly from northern Cambodia?" the peripheral general asked, histrionically waving his pen as he spoke.

"I'd say they are still going to be just as dead."

"Then have at it, Agent DELILAH . . ." EVA gestured toward the door.

Laura walked over to the door, grasped the handle in her tight rubber grip, and held it for a moment. Despite the bravado of her comments to the board a few seconds prior she wasn't so far removed from herself that she didn't understand what was being asked of her, nor forget that right now she was still innocent. In a few seconds she would be a murderer. Although, ironically, she didn't seem to care about doing the act itself, but was sentimental about what it would mean. One breath: in an out. She was ready.

Laura opened the door and walked in. As she stepped into the room and the door closed behind her, she pulled out her balaclava. The woman inside, cringing with her child in the far side of the room got up and stood hunched over from malnutrition and hard labor. She looked at Laura with longing and sorrow in her countenance.

"Please Miss. Please help me and baby." The woman said in broken Chinese. "Help us."

Laura looked at the woman with utter revulsion, taking this instant to pull on her balaclava, adjusting it so that it was straight on her face and her nose fit in the indentation meant for it. It clung tight to her face obscuring her disgusted look, but for what her eyes conveyed. The woman froze where she stood. Laura had taken away the humanity of herself and planted anew the seed of fear in her intended victim.

She kept walking toward the woman with even, unemphasized paces, her hand casually going to the seven inch knife strapped at her shoulder. She unsheathed it slowly, her predator instincts released by the conditioning and her mind lavishing in the thrill of the kill. As it slowly was drawn the light caught on the mirror shine of the blade, blinding momentarily the woman. In that instant Laura pounced on her, breaking into a short bolt, stopping as quickly as she had burst to speed in front of her prey, and with mechanical form, spun her body, lifting her leg erectly upward connecting with the woman's chest. The result was sheer physics. The woman flew backward four feet landing on her back and staggering to her feet some thirty seconds later. Laura circled, waiting, taking in the exhilaration.

As she got up to her feet, Laura grasped her face tightly, her hand covering the woman's mouth and nose, filling her nostrils with the putrid stench of new rubber. A quick yank and Laura had the woman on her feet. With a quick jab, Laura thrust her knife through the ribcage and into the right lung up to the hilt, and then quickly withdrew it. Laura's grasp on the woman's face lightened and moved away from her mouth and nose allowing her to breathe as best she could. She kept the woman close, feeling the effects of her efforts thus far through her own body, which she kept pressed against the woman's in an intimate fashion. She brought the tip to just under the woman's ear, piercing the flesh evoking a shudder and a scream from the woman, muffled by Laura's hand, and drew the blade across the throat severing the carotids, jugular, and with effort, the larynx. Blood cascaded out like a broken water mien and there was a whistling/hissing noise as her left lung discharged what little air it had through the severed larynx.

Laura dropped the corpse on the ground at her feet. Then she slashed at the air, shaking off deposited skin and most of the blood from the knife's blade, sheathing it above her left breast. Then she turned to the corner where the child had fled. Laura looked at him with the hunter's gaze. Her hand instinctively snaked to her thigh, pulling the strap on the holster and grasping the handle of the gun and drew it out, long silencer dragging. The child didn't move, but stood very still. As she raised the gun up and looked down the sights at the point mark, Laura surveyed her prey. At that age and in the unisexual, loose clothing the child was androgynous and without gender. This fact did little to phase her, however. She was an assassin now with blood on her hands and the work ahead was as necessary to her as her inhalation and exhalation of air. The target was squared in the sights_. Thp. Thp_. The gunshots were but ghosts of a sounds in a room that was sterile and lifeless.

Laura holstered her weapon and exited the room, leaving the quarry where they lay. When she entered the tribunal members were finishing up their notations and their conversations with EVA. Laura only caught a brief bit of what one general said to EVA.

". . . will certainly redeem you to Second Department Chief Luo-Xu. Congratulations on a marvelous success."

Laura stood at attention with her hands at her sides until the tribunal and EVA both acknowledged her. She however kept her balaclava on despite the knowledge that she should take it off during debriefing. Neither the generals nor EVA made a fuss about it they were all congratulations and compliments. Laura listened to them and bowed to them when they had finished. The tribunal members then packed up their briefcases and left the room. EVA and DELILAH were left together.

"Congratulations, DELILAH. You are now an agent of the Philosophers," EVA said with pride, "How does that make you feel?"

"I feel like I am fulfilling my destiny. Like this was always what I was supposed to be doing." Laura said wistfully.

"Now that the trial is over do you want anything?"

"Send Nurse Xhiu to my room, please. I like her."

EVA smiled.

**To be continued . . . . . . **


	4. Chapter 4

Part 6 

Aug. 13, 1968

Hanoi, North Vietnam

_Hôtel d'Aldaunsie_

Laura stumbled to the bathroom, winded, and leaned on the grungy, mildew encrusted sink. She laughed. For the past hour she had been entertaining herself with a fourteen year old Vietnamese girl. It had not been her intention to solicit entertainment for her stay, but when she arrived at the hotel the girl's brother had been pushing her on the guests. She took him up on his offer when she saw the girl's face. She was a meek, comely looking things that aroused in Laura a desire to destroy something beautiful.

As she looked back at the bed she saw the little girl laying on top of the sheets, sweat, hers and Laura's, glistening her skin. Her little groin was trimmed and shaved meticulously into a thin strip of hair over her vagina for sex appeal. Laura could feel the wiry, black hairs brushing against her like they had almost an hour ago as they caressed the girl's undercarriage. She smiled now as she lay upon the sheets. Laura knew that no lover had ever elicited pleasure like this in the girl before, or ever would again. Laura had given her the fucking of her life. She took solace in this fact. Now as she looked on that angelic face, she debated with herself how she would kill the girl.

Slowly Laura strutted back to the bed, mounted it and crawled on all fours toward the girl. As she approached she lowered her face to the girls and lovingly kissed her sweet lips. The girl wrapped her little arms around Laura's neck and caressed the smooth skin between Laura's shoulder blades.

"What take you so long?" the girl asked playfully.

"I needed some air. You wore me out." Laura replied playfully.

"But me so horny . . ." the girl pouted.

"Pardon?" Laura asked with mock surprise.

"You hear me. Me so horny. Me need sucky-sucky, fucky-fucky."

The girl mimed sucking on a nipple and began fingering herself. Laura laughed at the sight.

"Still? You certainly are a generous whore. Aren't you gonna ask me for more money. We've been at it for an hour."

"Me rike you a lot. Me love you long time." the girl said.

"don't take this the wrong way. But words like that from a whore are meaningless. You and every other prostitute in this country probably say those exact words to every guy who hires you." The girl looked genuinely hurt.

"But you different." the girl said desperately, "Me feel big love for you. You make feel buku good. Me want be wit you. Take me wit you."

"Where do you want me to take you?" Laura asked in condescending amusement.

"Take me away from brotha. You rich American woman. Take me where you go. I work for you. I sreep wit you. I do anyting you want. I rove you." The girl was near tears. Laura wiped the pooling tears away and kissed both eyes, tasting the salty sorrow.

"Why do you want to escape from your brother so bad?" Laura asked soothingly.

"Brother bad man. After parents die he make me sleep wit rich men. If I no make sixty dolla a day he beat me in stomach so I no get ugly. Someday he kill me."

"Listen don't think about your brother right now. You are safe with me. I promise that whether or not you leave here with me tonight you won't have to go back to your brother."

The girl's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

"Tank you, oh tank you! Me love you buku! Me love you long time." She shouted every bit of English her mind could muster in her jubilant state.

"Now," Laura said, propping herself up on one elbow, and looking at the girl's sleek pubescent body, "What will you let me do to you?"

"Anyting you want . . ." The girl replied with fire in her eyes, a master temptress. Laura reciprocated the look. She held a pair of handcuffs and a heavy satin scarf up in front of the girl.

"May I?" Laura asked friskily. The girl nodded.

Laura wrapped the girl's wrists in her dirty stockings and then cuffed her running the cuffs through the headboard securing her hands above her head. She then wrapped the satin scarf around her face like a gag, tightly wound. The girl smiled and purred with pleasure as Laura bound her.

After the girl's legs had been secured to the bottom of the bed spread eagled, Laura reached under the mattress and extracted a twelve-in razor edged Ka-bar combat knife. The girl's expression changed from a look of fiery, lustful passion to one of complete horror.

"You see, my dear," she said in Vietnamese, "I can't take you with me. I am a covert operative for the Chinese government and it's not allowed. I however will keep my promise and ensure that you never again return to your brother. I know you enjoyed the pleasure I gave, so I feel no guilt in having fun with the pain I now give."

With this last statement Laura brought the knife down onto the girl's soft white flesh. She tried to scream but the gag muffled it and soon there was no energy left to continue. For almost a half of an hour Laura ran the knife into the soft flesh tracing line of burgundy. Finally it all ended and Laura dismounted her victim's dead corpse. She wiped her bloodied hands on the girl's discarded dress and picked up the phone, dialing a twelve digit number.

"DELILAH, extension 438." She said as the operator asked her clearance. "Yes Thank you. I'm at the Hôtel d'Aldaunsie and I've made a bit of a mess . . . Yes, it's contained . . . No, there are no witnesses . . female, Vietnamese, aged 14-16, weight approximately 105lbs. Send a cleaner up to room 411, please . . . YEs, I understand."

When she hung up the phone, Laura sat down on the end of the bed, pulled a pack of Russian cigarettes from the girl's cloths and lit one up. She glanced at the mutilated body and smiled a little.

"He was right," she said as she exhaled a cloud of smoke, "Sex can't compare to the thrill it gives . . ."

She finished her smoke, got up, removed her bloodied, black thong and showed the blood off.


End file.
